


And I'm Sorry if I Hurt You

by Katraa



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Angst, Drinking, M/M, Masturbation, Rhyme and Rib, Sloppy Makeouts, Sly Blue era, The Four Amigos, Violence, childhood AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1951470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/pseuds/Katraa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Do you remember that kid that used to follow you around?”  Sly isn’t really listening.  Not really.  He’s got his head pressed against the glass of the window of the diner and he’s watching the cars rush by, kicking up puddles in their wake.  He’s got his headphones around his neck, turned on low, and is spacing out to some deep beat that mimics the thumping of his heart.</p><p>Otherwise known as a childhood au where Aoba befriends a little German boy named Nikolaus who becomes entangled in he and Koujaku's lives until he leaves abruptly one day.  Years later, a haughty stranger named Noiz shows up and starts hanging with the "gang" and captures Sly Blue's attention.  For better or for worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I'm Sorry if I Hurt You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heirofderping.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=heirofderping.tumblr.com).



> this is for you bri. :*  
> I LOVE CHILDHOOD AUs, and I really like the idea of Noiz being close to Koujaku and Mizuki with Aoba.  
> And I really like Sly. So here we go.  
> I also switch between 'Aoba' and 'Sly' throughout the story. It's the same person. I just refer to him differently. Just in case anyone got confused! It's the same person!!  
> This story turned into a monster and neared 8,000 words. So I'm sorry for the long read. It's also un-beta'd because I just got tired and decided to throw it up. I'll edit out typos and things later.

“Do you remember that kid that used to follow you around?”

Sly isn’t really listening. Not really. He’s got his head pressed against the glass of the window of the diner and he’s watching the cars rush by, kicking up puddles in their wake. He’s got his headphones around his neck, turned on low, and is spacing out to some deep beat that mimics the thumping of his heart.

“Aoba?”

Sly wrinkles his nose and looks over. Partially, anyway. He gives his friend this sidelong glance and he opens his mouth to speak but he shuts it firmly. He doesn’t remember too much from his childhood, not really, and he doesn’t really care to, either. It hurts. 

“Why?” Sly asks as he looks away from his friend to stare back out at the rain beating on the windows.

“Ah… nothing, really. Was just getting nostalgic. He used to act like you were his hero.”

Funny, Aoba thinks, because that’s how he used to view Koujaku, too, so it’s a bit ironic that those words are coming out of the hippo’s mouth. Aoba doesn’t comment on that, though, and instead licks his bottom lip and clicks his tongue.

“Tch. Did he? I don’t remember.”

“You were both probably too young, anyway,” Koujaku digresses and he smiles warmly. 

Aoba pretends not to see it. He tries to turn a blind eye to the kindness that his oldest friend has always given him. Koujaku left once, just like his parents, so it’s hard to truly trust him. Aoba knows, deep down, that he really doesn’t have a reason to distrust the man, but he finds it hard to when he’s been broken and betrayed so many times. It’s just not in his nature to forgive or forget. Not really.

“I guess,” Aoba forces out, just to make it seem like he isn’t completely ignoring him.

But the rain has him captivated.

* * *

_Small hands reach for Aoba’s and it’s warm, so very warm. These hands are probably only a year younger than his but they’re already so cut up and bandaged and hurt. Aoba sometimes, in his eight old year mind, wonders how this little boy got this way._

“Stay?” the tiny boy asks and it sounds funny with the accent the boy has. The sounds are deeper and he’s not enunciating properly but Aoba can’t really complain.

“I’m not going anywhere, silly,” Aoba says and he’s all smiles. 

At least, until the cute little blonde boy reaches forward to tug on his hair.

“H-hey! I told you that hurts!”

The boy looks put off, almost like he’s going to throw a tantrum, but it never happens. Instead, he lets Aoba’s pretty blue hair fall between his fingers like water and he affixes his gaze down at his dirty shoes.

“I’m sorry,” the little boy says and it sounds like he’s never really said those words before in Japanese. Is this really his first time?

“It’s fine…just don’t do it again, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Pinky promise?” Aoba thrusts his hand forward, pinky extended, and he’s all childhood youth and bubbly and happiness. His smile is contagious, apparently, because despite how shy it is, the little boy smiles back and lifts his hand up.

“Ok.”

He doesn’t say much, but Aoba tends to like his voice.

It reminds him of the Princes in the books Granny and Koujaku would read to him, sometimes.

It reminds him of rain, too. Engulfing, cooling, mysterious.

* * *

Sly sits up in his bed, late at night, staring out his window. He's moved into this cramped apartment recently, with the aid of Koujaku and Mizuki, and things are slowly getting better. He can't live with his Grandmother anymore - he knows he's slowly killing her inside, with his Rhyme, alcohol abuse, and casual drug usage. He knows she's disappointed and it hurts him more than he cares to admit. So he keeps his distance. And he lives here, off the minimum money he makes from Rhyme and random jobs he takes on during the weekends. It's a hard life, but it's a life. He can't quite call Koujaku and Mizuki "friends" but he can't call them enemies, either. Or acquaintances. He's not quite sure what the right word for them is, so he prefers not to label them as anything. That's easiest.

Sometimes, when he lays up in bed and tries to piece together his and - that _guy's_ \- memories, they blur and join together like puzzle pieces. They're one in the same, right? It's just that sometimes that guy recoils and hides and it's just that sometimes Sly sees more clearly. All of that guy's memories are his, too, and it's hard to explain so he doesn't bother explaining it to anyone. Who wants to know you have voices in your head. anyway? That'd be the last straw - that'd be the one thing everyone needs to lock him up somewhere for his "own good". 

So he never said - or says - anything about. And neither does _that guy_.

But sometimes, he smells an obnoxious waft of peppermint and his heart hurts. Just for some reason. Just sometimes.

* * *

_"Ah… what are you doing?"_

_The little blonde boy is seated beside him in the park. His hands are busy working with something that he won't let Aoba see. The blonde boy doesn't say a word and Aoba tries to peek but he can't quite see. Aoba huffs and folds his arms to his chest, just like the tiny boy he is, and resists throwing a tantrum and causing a scene. He's placated soon enough, though, when the little boy finally turns his way. His hands are hidden, of course, and he finally speaks,_

_"Close your eyes."_

_It's probably the most words Aoba has ever heard him string together before. Aoba hesitates but he does as the little boy tells him and he closes his eyes, heart thudding and he feels so young, so excited, and his tiny little fists clench at his sides._

_It's around that time that he feels warm, fragile hands touch the crown of his head and Aoba has the urge to pull back because it's sensitive and it tickles and hair really shouldn't feel like this. But he steels himself because he doesn't want this little boy to make fun of him for being a pansy and he feels something soft settle on his head. It isn't hands, Aoba realizes, and he has difficulty trying to puzzle out what it could be._

_When Aoba opens his eyes, he sees pretty green eyes and that little boy is blinking at him._

_"What'd you…?" Aoba asks, voice vulnerable and confused and he reaches up to touch his head. At the top rests a crown made of flowers, pretty flowers that are as pretty as the little boy's eyes, and he can't help but smile. "For me…?"_

_"Yes."_

_Aoba's smile grows and he can't help but lunge forward, temporarily forgetting how the little boy doesn't really like physical contact like hugs. He can't help it so he hugs the little boy and makes the happiest noise Aoba has ever heard himself produce._

_"Thank you!"_

_It's a flower crown. For a pretty little prince like Aoba._

* * *

"Cut it the fuck out, you two."

Sly growls it as he violently shoves at Koujaku's and this stranger's chest. It doesn't do much, partially because Koujaku has a good plenty of pounds and muscle on Sly and because this stranger seems like a bulldozer. Still, the dark look in Sly's eyes and the reputation that follows him along like a disease does the job decently well because the two bodies separate and continue glaring at each other from a comfortable three-foot distance. Sly doesn't seem to be appreciating that either, because his chest is rising and falling rapidly. 

He had been on his walk back from the Black Needle. He, Mizuki, and Koujaku had all had a couple of drinks - maybe a bit too many - and had been muttering on and on about the good old times and memories and all that came with drinking with "friends". Koujaku had excused himself first, saying that he had an early morning appointment for a haircut and that was when Sly had made a snide remark about big-busted women which apparently simultaneously flustered and pissed off Koujaku. The samurai had left in a flurry and Mizuki had sighed, ducked his head down, and mumbled about how childish the pair could be sometimes. Sly had stuck around for a few minutes longer, downed his jack and coke, and left, giving Mizuki a gracious tip as he stumbled out of the establishment and back out onto the cold streets.

It was a cold fall night and Sly shivered in his thin hoodie on the walk back. But, upon seeing Koujaku in the middle of a fist-fight with some idiot in the middle of the alleyway Sly always took on his walk back to his place, he had heated up. He forgot how cold he was and instantly became enraged. Of _all of the nights_ this stupid hippo had to pick tonight to get into some asinine territory dispute.

And that lead them to the present.

"What the hell were you thinkin', you stupid old hippo? You know that asshole patrols here on weeknights," Sly spits out, rubbing the back of his mouth afterward when he feels a slight burn. There's probably residual whiskey on his lips still. Probably.

"It was this guy's fault, not mine," Koujaku says, as if he's being scolded by a parent or sibling and not some ball of blue who is definitely younger than him.

"Oh yeah?" Sly mutters and he turns his attention to the aforementioned stranger. "You want a fight, buddy? I'll fuckin' wreck you."

"Yeah?"

Sly hears the voice and there's something nostalgic about the way the words fall down like rain all around him. The voice isn't familiar, but the intonation and the cadence is deathly familiar and the vicious look in Sly's eyes flickers. It dims, just for a second or two, before it's gone. Sly forgets about the strange feeling and sets his face into the cockiest grin he can muster up at this hour, after this many drinks.

"Yeah. That's what I just said. You deaf, punk?"

"Nah." The stranger tilts his head up, the hood falling off him. Pretty blonde hair, sharp green eyes, sharper jawbones, pale skin, and a shitton of freckles that are barely visible in the dim light of the street lamps.

"He isn't worth it, Aoba," Koujaku cuts in and defensively clasps a hand down on Sly's shoulder.

Sly recoils instantly, brushing off that helpful hand, and sets the pair of morons a harsh glare. He doesn't want help and he definitely doesn't want to be caught up in whatever argument these two were having at this hour. He suspects Koujaku is tipsy and that this stranger is either high or just out of his mind. He's pretty, Sly thinks momentarily, and he thinks what it'd be like to push him against a wall and wreck him. Break his mind, his back, his bones, his wrists, every single bone and thought in him. Yeah, just like _that_.

"Tch. Who asked you, old man?"

"Why, you little brat--!" Koujaku begins, fury returning and he looks like he's about to pop a vein, reaching for his blade, but Sly reacts first and kicks his friend straight in the shin. Apparently when Koujaku has booze he gets weaker, or more susceptible to pain, because the poor guy stumbles backward ingot he brick wall and begins muttering a slew of curses.

"Wow. How tough. I'm trembling," the stranger drawls and tips his head up, looking down his nose. 

"Why don't you beat it before I kick your scrawny ass, hm?" Sly asks, looking to the stranger, knuckles cracking at his sides; he's ready to go. 

"Nah. I don't fight girls."

"You fuckin' punk," Sly says and that's all it takes to barrel forward and grab the stranger's wrists with surprising force. He shoves the blonde stranger back against the opposing wall and glares straight into his soul, it feels like, as he nearly crushes the guy's wrists under his vice grip. "Say that again."

There's a chuckle, a throaty chuckle, and the stranger clicks his tongue. "You look like a girl."

It's a sensitive memory and Sly is about to start punching the crap out of this cocky asshole but Koujaku is calling towards him and somehow Mizuki is here now, too. 

Sly feels his body being pried off the stranger's and just like that the pair of "friends" are hauling his Rhymer ass back down the alley. Sly glares back over his shoulder at the stranger, watching as he has the _nerve_ to wave at the trio as they grow farther and farther into the distance.

"I had him. Let me go kick his ass," Sly is muttering, feeling drunker than before.

"Sorry, but I kinda can't let you do that in good faith."

And that's the last thing Aoba remembers Mizuki saying before he blacks out, whether it be from the booze or the anger.

* * *

_"You're…leaving?" Aoba asks, blinking._

_He isn't aware of it but tears are swelling up in his big brown eyes threatening to spill forth. His little hands grip tightly at his sides and he just stares at the quiet German boy sitting in front of him._

_They're at the park. They usually meet up here when Tae has to work late and when Koujaku has after school activities to attend to. Sometimes Koujaku shows up, too, and the three of them play. It's kind of their thing, their secret garden, and Aoba wouldn't' trade it for the world. Except now he's being forced to. It's slipping away, out from beneath him._

_And it's begun to rain._

_"I don't want to," the little blonde boy says._

_"Then don't. Stay with me. Granny has extra room if I ask--"_

_"I can't."_

_"But you don't want to go -- I don't want you to!"_

_"I can't."_

_"Koujaku will miss you too! When are you leaving? You can't…!"_

_"I have to go."_

_The little German boy won't look him in the eye. Those usually cute green eyes are clouded too and it doesn't take a genius to realize the usually emotionless boy is on the verge of tears, too. And maybe if he started to cry it'd be okay because the rain is starting to pick up. It'd do a decent enough job, they both must be thinking._

_But all the little boy does is get up from his patch of grass because someone is calling out, " _Nikolaus! Nikolaus it's time to go now_. The little boy - is his name Nikolaus, then? - leans forward and kisses Aoba's cheek. Just once. Jus simple and gentle and like a little boy with his first crush would._

_"Bye."_

__I'll miss you_ _

__

* * *

Sly sees him again at the Black Needle.

Sly is five drinks deep and his world is fuzzy and spinning and he's having issues with his motor functions. Reaching for his glass of whiskey is more difficult than he remembers which just makes his lips curl up into a tight sneer and he reaches for it anyway. If it spills, it spills. He's learned that along the way, he's realized. Things happen and you just have to deal with it and move on.

Koujaku keeps texting him, asking him if he's okay and that he hasn't seen him since the other day when they pulled him away from that punk-ass brat in the alleyway. Sly doesn't have the energy to answer his friend. He's exhausted, tired, and he just wants to drink and space out. He's made Mizuki promise him not to tell him where he is, that he's at the bar, at the shop. He doesn't want to let on that he's using the booze as an emotional crutch.

By the time he realizes that the guy from the other day is a couple of bar stools down, he's so wasted and tired. There are bags under his eyes and his messy blue hair probably looks even messier than usual. So Sly looks over to the blonde stranger and tosses in a dark and slightly raspy voice,

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Drinking."

"Tch… you look too young to drink, brat. How'd you even get in here?" 

"I walked in."

"That's not what I meant."

Sly growls and lowers his head, ducks it down, stares at the way the ice in his glass is melting. It's watering down the whiskey but he doesn't really care because it's the same amount of alcohol no matter how you drink it down. He forces his gaze back up, though, and grinds his teeth together before hopping over the stools to sit beside the stranger.

"You're what. Twelve?" Sly demands, smacking his lips together as his eyes size up the stranger.

"If I am, that's depressing, since I'm taller than you."

Sly deflates and then looks like he's about to kill someone. That, or at least punch this bastard square in the nose. He ends up doing neither and just glares down at his glass and spins around the contents a few times.

"Wow. You have such a big mouth. Has anyone ever shut it for you before?"

"No. Do you want to?"

That's such an apathetic and bratty response, Sly thinks, and he glares over at the stranger venomously. "If I wasn't plastered I'd be kickin' your ass right now."

"I'm sure."

Sly rolls his eyes and ends up leaning his cheek against his fist, counting the bottles behind the bar. The last time he did this there were fifty-seven . This time he speculates there are more because business is booming and because he always convinces Mizuki to buy more whenever they're out. 

But his gaze wanders back to the stranger and takes in his appearance. He's wearing this stupid hat that has even stupider balls dangling off the sides of it. It's probably for the winter, so why the hell this brat is wearing it now is beyond Sly's comprehension. Sly digs his heel into the ground, the tile of the floor of the Black Needle, and sweeps his gaze along strong jaw bones and sharp green eyes and freckled skin. 

It's familiar. In a haunting way and he wonders if the whiskey is trying to trick him, trying to calm him down and dangle something familiar in front of him to keep him from spiraling out of control and causing destruction to himself.

"What's your name, anyway?"

It most certainly has to be the whiskey talking, because as the stranger parts his lips to answer, there's a swell of hope in Aoba's chest that feels like an ocean, a tidal wave, a current--

"Noiz."

And it smacks down on the beach inside of him so hard, leaving him winded, and just even more broken than before.

 _Of course it's not him_.

* * *

The next time Sly sees Noiz it's out on the outskirts of town. Sly likes to take walks around the island to clear his mind after any particularly tough Rhyme battles or any particularly painful arguments with his Grandmother. The drugs and the alcohol just don't take the edge off things anymore, not like they used to, and he wonders if he's dying.

Koujaku is pissed at him for destroying himself and Mizuki knows better than to say a word about it and instead focuses his entirety on trying to cheer up one of his oldest friends. Sly should really be grateful for them, but he isn't. He can't find it in himself to be anything but undead as of late.

His run-in with Noiz is unscripted, unpredictable, and Sly nearly has a heart attack.

He had been zoning out, walking around for hours, when he collided with a warm body. A warm chest, a strong chest, a body just slightly taller than his own. There was a faint scent of peppermint, of candy and maybe pasta, maybe, and he hadn't even needed to look up to see who it was.

"Are you stalking me?"

Sly snorts at the question. "Yeah. Totally. Don't flatter yourself, Noiz."

Noiz takes a step back now that Aoba has regained his balance and composure and cocks his head to the side. The sun has almost set and the light is reflecting in his eyes just so perfectly, so splendidly, "I wasn't."

"Good."

There's a beat. "Why are you out here?"

"Does it matter?" Sly mumbles.

"I guess not."

"Then don't ask."

Sly shoves his hands into his pockets and feels a bit defenseless talking to Noiz like this. He notices the guy's bandaged hands and he wants to ask what kind of fights he's gotten himself into to look all banged up like that, but he thinks better of it. He knows that'd probably end up into their own altercation and he just doesn't have the gusto or the will to fight at this hour - at this point of his life.

"No entourage?"

Ah. He must mean Koujaku or Mizuki. Sly scoffs, "Not today, brat. Lucky you."

"Mm."

This moron seems rather subdued, comparatively, to the last time they last saw one another. He still has that stupid hat on and Aoba still wants to punch his face in. It's no big deal, not really.

"So. Why are _you_ out this way? Live in the boondocks?"

"No." There's something distant, something haughty and confident and dignified in that response but Aoba can't pinpoint the reason or why. "I live near that shop."

"That shop?" Sly echoes and it takes him a moment to supply an array of possible places, "What? Heibon? Pizza place?"

"Black Needle."

Oh, so he lives down near Mizuki's place. Which means he lives in the good district which means he must be loaded. Which surprises Sly, because with a wardrobe like that, it looks like the brat just rolled out of a bargain bin and put on anything he could find. It's kind of funny and Aoba laughs to himself, under his breath. 

"What's so funny?"

"You don't look rich."

Noiz shrugs.

"You look like a pile of trash," Sly goes on to say, lips quirking up sharply at the edges. "Do you get that often?"

"Not really."

Sly chuckles again, and for some reason he doesn't want to punch this brat's face in as much. He stares at him for a long moment, contemplating just walking away and continuing his nightly jaunt, but then a better idea flickers into his head and he looks back over his shoulder, away from Noiz.

"I'm going to Black Needle. Come if you want."

And, surprisingly, Noiz follows.

* * *

They start going drink for drink, never straying from whiskey.

Sly watches as Noiz takes a shot, watches as he wrinkles his nose in distaste, watches as Noiz tries his best to cover up the fact he must have _hated_ the way the alcohol dripped down his throat, burnt his tongue and mouth along the way. It's kind of cute, in a morbid way, Aoba thinks, but then again, he's already found the odd the most charming - just look at Mizuki and Koujaku.

"So you're…friends, now?" Mizuki asks as he serves the odd duo their third drinks - Jack and Ginger because the coke is heavy and Aoba looks like he needs something lighter for a bit so he doesn't hurl. 

"Friends?" They say at the same time and then Aoba starts laughing. 

It's not really a laugh over the idea, but that he and Noiz had spoken at the same time and aren't friends supposed to do that? He doesn't exactly mind the idea of Noiz integrating himself into their little bar hangouts and walking around Midorijiama with him, because everything else is so stale and people are suffocating and he needs something lively, something exuberant to focus on, lest he crash and burn.

"Don't push it, Mizuki," Sly ends up saying but there's a twinkle in his eyes and that's all Mizuki needs to know.

"So… you're Noiz?" Mizuki asks and he starts to probe the kid with pointless questions about Rhyme, why he likes it, where he's living. The usual stuff Mizuki asks people to be friendly, but Aoba can tell he's trying extra hard because apparently Aoba likes the kid and it's been so long since Aoba has tolerated anyone besides him and Koujaku.

Aoba spaces out most of the answers because he has a drink to focus on, but he does tune in just to hear Noiz say in his accented voice, "I'm from Germany. Luxembourg isn't that far away." 

Germany.

Of all the places to be from he just had to be from the same damn country that that little punk left to.

Aoba excuses himself from the bar for a few minutes, saying he needs a smoke. 

Once outside, he slams his fist against the wall and completely ignores his cigarettes. He tries not to cry and he's drunk and maybe he will cry after all because his heart hurts and he misses the little blonde boy - Nikolaus- and he wonders sometimes if his life would be different if he were still here. He can still feel the soft, petal soft kiss to his cheek and the way Nikolaus would always insist on walking him home or just sitting with him when he was upset.

It's a silly little memory, a silly slew of memories, and Aoba feels even sillier for focusing on it right now.

And he doesn't feel silly but instead downright _horrible_ when he gets home later that night, alone and drunk and having almost made a move on Noiz who insisted on walking him home because he could barely stand. He feels horrible because after shutting the door in Noiz's face and heading into his bedroom to pass out, he thinks of the little flower crown he's kept all these years under his bed, just in case.

Because no one had ever given him something quite like that before.

And he thinks maybe it was a promise and maybe Nikolaus would show back up and whisk him away like a stupid Prince, in a storm of rain and flowers and everything would be _okay_.

It's delusional but he's, at best, delusional when drunk.

And sober, at best he's just hopeless.

* * *

"Aoba, I don't like him," Koujaku tells him when he catches wind that Aoba is hanging around the brat from the alley.

Aoba blows a puff of smoke directly in Koujakus' voice and chuckles darkly and mumbles, "It's not your job to decide what friends I can have, hippo. But thanks."

It's the first time he's called Noiz a friend and it's maybe one of the first times since he was younger that he's actually thanked Koujaku for anything.

Maybe he's coming around - maybe he's escaping this dark malestorm that's been his life ever since his parents left.

Just maybe he isn't going to burn out.

* * *

"The fuck is beer pong? This is so stupid. Oh my god."

Aoba can't keep it together. He's leaning against Noiz, trying to keep his balance because he's already drunk and they've only been at Mizuki's shop for an hour. Mizuki had closed up early and invited the three of them over - Aoba, Koujaku, and Noiz - for some bonding because Dry Juice was going to need the shop for the next couple of days and Mizuki couldn't go that long without a quick fun night in with his closest friends. How Noiz ended up tangled up int he best is still a mystery, but Koujaku blames it on the fact that, 'Beer pong and drinking games need more than three people so drag the brat out'.

Noiz is surprisingly good at beer pong, Aoba realizes, as they start. Noiz has a great aim and he and Koujaku are going shot for shot. Mizuki and Aoba, not so much, and they usually end up missing the cups of beer. But they both laugh and get crazy drunk and Mizuki muses that if Noiz and Koujaku had been on a team this would have been over much faster.

But then Aoba does something stupid, he laughs and leans against Noiz and purrs loud enough for the other three to hear crystal clear, "Yeah, but Noiz is my partner. So back off."

It's in jest but it's clear that there's some truth to it, that Aoba is possessive and that he has some weird stake in Noiz. Which is fine with the two Ribsters, because Koujaku is a lady's man and Mizuki doesn't date in general - he says he's too busy and he likes his pets too much and that he just doesn't have the time right now. Neither of them question Aoba's weird affinity for this blonde German boy. 

So they continue pong.

And then traverse into Kings.

Mizuki ends up saying something like, "I haven't played this since college, wholly shit. We're trash."

And then Koujaku agrees with the trash comment and points a finger at Noiz, calling him the trashiest of all of them, and the two Ribsters die laughing, and Aoba joins in on the laughing, still leaning against Noiz. He's glad that there are two couches in the Black Needle, because it means they can play the game with a table between them and that he gets the whole couch to himself with his strange, quirky, drop-dead handsome new "friend".

"Never Have I Ever? Seriously? Ugh I hate this," Mizuki says and rubs his forehead as he holds up five fingers, trying to think. "Man, there's not much I haven't done…"

"What about a girl? You done that?" Koujaku says, edging on the side of drunk, and he's grinning like a moron.

Mizuki delivers an elbow to his gut and he just laughs and says, almost jokingly, "Fine then. Never have I ever been with a dude." He shoots Koujaku an accusatory look, as if he _knows something no one else does_ and Koujaku looks both offended and betrayed but laughs it off and waves his five still standing fingers around. No dice there, Mizuki.

Mizuki is about to take a drink for not getting anyone out, but Noiz puts a finger down and the room momentarily goes silent.

Koujaku pretends to be focused on the drawings of Mizuki's latest tattoos on the wall and Aoba tries not to let the heat go to his face, his cheeks. His five fingers are still very much up and despite making out with some dudes, he's never fucked one. And he's never been happy over the idea of someone being, at the very least, confirmed bisexual. 

So the game continues on.

Aoba drunkenly waves his fingers around and leans his cheek against Noiz's arm as he thinks up something.

"Never have I ever left the island."

He watches as all three of the guys put their fingers down. Score.

Noiz says something about never having played Rib before and Koujaku and Mizuki glare and put their fingers down.

When it gets to Koujaku he says something about never having had his hair cut by anyone that wasn't a professional, like the fashionable jerk he is, which gets everyone to put a finger down. When it gets back to Mizuki, he has the wise idea to say,

"Never have I ever had a crush on a friend for longer than a week."

All three put fingers down.

Noiz is out and he mutters something as he reaches for his drink and draws the next card.

The room's heavy and there's definitely something to be said about that last Never Have I ever. For all of them.

* * *

When Kings is over, they're all four effectively drunk out of their minds. Koujaku is a loud and boisterous and happy drunk who keeps slinging his arm around Mizuki and telling him how much he appreciates him and how they'll always be friends despite being on different Rib teams. Aoba thinks it's kind of cute, that these two are still best friends despite it all, and he nearly blushes when Koujaku asserts that he'll always, always be here for Aoba no matter what.

Mizuki's a pretty hyper drunk, who just kind of sits around smiling and embracing whatever moment happens. He laughs a lot, too, and Aoba thinks that's good because he isn't used to seeing Mizuki sullen and as of late there's definitely been a lot on the Ribster's mind.

Aoba's a touchy drunk, he realizes, because he can't stop leaning on Noiz or poking at Mizuki's face or swatting at Koujaku. But he's smiling all the time, too, and he wonders if anyone else is creeped out by that, because _Sly Blue_ just doesn't smile. Smirk, maybe, grin, definitely, but smile?

And Noiz. Noiz is an interesting drunk who seems unchanged except for slightly lazier, clumsier movements. He doesn't leave the couch and he lets Aoba lay all over him without a single gripe. He just lets it happen and Aoba, in his drunken stupor, wonders what he could get away with, because Noiz reminds him so much of Nikolaus.

And Nikolaus.

That thought makes Aoba stiffen and he's about to cry. His emotions are on overload and that stupid question from Kings earlier keeps ringing in his head, 'Had a crush on a friend'. His throat feels dry, mouth feels dry, and he excuses himself to go throw up in the bathroom.

When he gets back, Koujaku is passed out on the couch and Mizuki is cleaning up. Mizuki tells him that he and Noiz are welcomed to stay the night, but Noiz insists that he has somewhere to be in the morning. 

That's when he offers to walk Aoba home.

A bit more sober, Aoba quietly agrees and wishes Mizuki a good night as they leave the shop and head out into the rainy night.

* * *

They're at Aoba's door again.

He hasn't slammed it shut, not yet, and he kind of stares scrutinizingly at Noiz who hasn't left yet, either. 

"Well," Aoba murmurs and he bites at his bottom lip, "That was fuckin' great and all, but I'm tired now."

"I noticed," Noiz says and Aoba wants to smack him, just lightly, for that sassy remark, because he knows Noiz is referring to Aoba nearly falling asleep on him earlier between drinking games.

It goes quiet and Aoba hesitates, hand on the door, ready to shut it in Noiz's face again. His gaze gets trapped on Noiz's piercings, though, and he wonders what it'd be like to make out with someone with snakebites and a piercing tongue. 

And apparently he had voiced that last bit aloud because Noiz quirks a brow and asks,

"Do you want to find out?"

It doesn't take much.

Aoba yanks him forward by the stupid green tie he always wears and seals their lips together clumsily. Noiz returns the kiss greedily, lips parting and mouth hot and the piercings are already rubbing against Aoba's lips and now his tongue. It's hot and it's messy and Aoba presses his chest right up against Noiz's, trying to press as close as possible as they ravish each other mouths. Aoba ends up making needy little pants into the kiss, hands groping at Noiz's back as he drags his tongue all around, all over Noiz's and his mouth.

He ends up starting to lead Noiz back to his room because he thinks it'd be a great idea to experiment with guys with Noiz and why not? but before he can get Noiz past the kitchen, he feels a hand on his head.

"O-ouch. Don't touch it," Aoba whines against Noiz's mouth, the kiss breaking for just a second.

"I know."

Aoba doesn't register that and goes back to kissing Noiz, hard and fast and teeth clanging. They're almost back at his room but they stop again, just before they get there, because Aoba is out of breath and his pants are now painfully tight and he's never gotten a boner from making out with anyone before.

"Do you need help with that?" Noiz says, cockily, and he's smirking as Aoba looks away, flushed in the face.

"Oi, stop being a brat… it's a physical reaction you idiot," he mumbles and Noiz's lips are on his jaw, on his neck.

Aoba ends up leaning back against the wall near his room and lets Noiz bite and kiss down along the pale columns of his neck. Noiz's tongue plays with his collarbone, plays with his skin, keeps kissing him as his hands press firm down on Aoba's hips. It wasn't like Aoba had any ideas of going anywhere, but maybe Noiz wanted the reassurance.

And it's probably a bad idea that Aoba decides to try to finally get into Noiz's pants when he's still moderately drunk because when Noiz's fingers ghost up along his inner thighs, teasing close but not close enough to his very obvious bulge, he breathes out desperately.

It's not Noiz's name and it's not Koujakus' or Mizuki's. It's not even some hot celebrity.

It's fucking _Nikolaus_.

Noiz stops entirely and Aoba feels like a damned fool. His blood goes cold and he stares up at the ceiling and he's certainly fucked things up this time. Just like with Nikolaus. He's losing both of them now and he really doesn't even want to live anymore. He's never been a good friend and he always, always ends up hurting someone. He's hurt Mizuki and he's hurt Koujaku and now he's hurting Noiz.

He's just horrible.

"What?"

"Forget it," Aoba says in a snap, sharply, as he shoves at Noiz's chest. "Get off me and get out."

"What did you call me?"

"I said _get out_!" Aoba all but yells as he shoves at Noiz again.

He's using _that_ voice and Noiz blindly obeys, grabs his hoodie had shrugged off in the kitchen and leaves.

Aoba feels empty, feels cold and lonely and he curls in on himself and falls asleep in the hallway that night, eyes burning and with tear-soaked cheeks. He's the worst, the absolute worst, and he deserves to be the wreck everyone thinks he is. He's Sly Blue and his life is shit and he just can't keep any healthy relationship without screwing it up.

* * *

Aoba is laying in bed that night, staring at his Coil, trying to calm himself down with music. He had managed to crawl out of the hallway around three in the morning and he's having trouble getting back to sleep. He keeps thinking about the night's events and how it could have been different if he hadn't just fucked up and called Noiz the little boy's name who he's been thinking of more and more lately.

Noiz's piercings had felt great, Noiz's mouth had felt better, and he's _certain_ Noiz's cock would have felt even better. Aoba bites down on his lip and imagines it… 

He imagines Noiz kissing down his throat and then his chest, teeth teasingly tugging at his nipple and piercings rubbing against the sensitive spot, too. He lets his hand wander down to undo his jeans, just as Noiz would have if he hadn't fucked it up.

He imagines the way Noiz would be kind of rough with him, but would take his time. His hand snakes down into his boxers and he's already half-hard just from picturing Noiz doing all sorts of naughty things to him.

His breath catches as his hand grasps his cock and he goes hard instantly.

"Noiz…" he pants, actually glad this time that he has the decency to say the correct name. 

He starts to pump himself, thumb rubbing against the slit of his tip, his cock straining in his hold. He opens his mouth to let the pants come out faster, hotter, louder, and he's all but whining. He imagines that'd get Noiz off, definitely.

His other hand snakes around his body and down into his pants and he starts fingering himself, using precum as a makeshift lubricant. He's done this before so his body is fairly used to the raw sensation of fingers going in and out of his ass. He's careful though, slow, as if not to tear anything. 

Eventually he comes from the simultaneous stimulation, and he moans out Noiz's name as he does it.

He's just really, really fucked up, hasn't he?

He lays there for a solid ten minutes, chest covered in cum and body still numb from the orgasm. He lays there and imagines what it'd be like to be in a relationship with someone, imagines what it'd be like if he hadn't fucked up things with Noiz and how weirdly nice it'd be to have someone to go out with and have dinner with and kiss whenever he wanted.

He's never really wanted those things before - except with Nikolaus.

He ends up looking over to the nightstand to his Coil that's lit up. Groggily, he reaches for it and opens the text message eagerly waiting for him.

It's from Noiz.

He's a bit surprised.

` can i come back? `

His heart pounds. It's timestamped an hour ago. 

He swallows, hard, and he quickly texts back, `i guess so. why?`

` i want to see you`

He almost regrets just getting himself off. Just maybe.

But he pulls himself out of bed and goes to clean up, heart and mind a mess and he's not certain if he's going to come out of this night alive or not.

* * *

When Noiz shows back up, he doesn't have chocolates or pizza or anything cliche that boyfriends bring their girlfriends after a fight. Instead, he has a single flower and Sly wrinkles his nose at it.

"It's four in the morning, where the hell did you find that?" he asks as he lets Noiz in, feeling oddly subconscious. He bets Noiz can smell the sex on him and he hopes that Noiz doesn't think he just found someone else to fuck in that small window of time. 

When had he even started to care?

"Aoba," Noiz begins and it chills Aoba to the core to have Noiz finally use his name like that. It makes him feel warm and maybe he could go again if Noiz actually really likes him and still wants to mess around in bed. Either way, Noiz hands Aoba the flower and Aoba kind of holds it with such gentle care that he never even knew he was capable of.

"What's this for?" Aoba asks again, this time less prickly, as he tilts his head down to smell it.

It smells sweet.

"Tch… you passed." Noiz shrugs and he looks away, looks out the window.

"Passed? What the fuck does that mean?" Aoba mumbles and he can't tear his eyes away from the flower. He's never gotten a flower before - well, there was the crown, but…

"I wanted to be certain of something, and you cleared up any suspicions I had," Noiz says, simply, and there's a tiny smile appearing on the brat's usually passive voice. "I want to date you."

Aoba flustered. "H-hey! What's this all of a sudden? I just kicked you out," after panting another guy's name, "and you want to _date_ me? How backwards are you?"

Noiz is still smiling and he takes a step closer and kisses Aoba's cheek. It's very nostalgic and Aoba's heart catches in his throat.

"Oi, brat, that's not an answer," Aoba begins but he feels himself growing more flustered by the moment. He's about to step away and go put the flower in water but Noiz takes it from him and sets it on his head. He must look like a fucking moron with a single-stem rose just balancing on his head. "Noiz…"

"I couldn't find anything to make a chain out of, so I guess that'll have to do."

"What?" A chain? Aoba is about to huff and take the flower off his head but it clicks and it hurts and he looks away, "…Don't say things like that." Because someone used to say things like to him as a child and he really doesn't want to compare Noiz to him. Not after what had just happened.

"Why?"

"Because…" Aoba hesitates and shakes his head. "Because I said so. I'll date you if you don't say stupid things like that."

Noiz seems placated for only a second before he clicks his tongue and watches Aoba take the flower off his head. The blonde starts to speak again before Aoba can say anything else, "How often did you get yourself off to my name, anyway?"

"E-excuse me?" Aoba nearly shrieks, having been in the middle of admiring how red the rose was. Now, his ears and face match the shade and he's about to send a punch right at this so called boyfriend of his. "Who the fuck says I get off to you--"

"You were when we were making out. You said my name. You must have thought of me a lot, huh? I did."

Aoba blinks. And he looks defenseless and like the little boy that Noiz left all those years ago.

"I used to think of you a lot when I was lonely. I was always going to come back for you. I just had to wait until my parents let me out. It wasn't hard to find you, but I wasn't sure if you still felt the same. So I didn't ask. But I guess you moaning my name is clarification enough, huh? I haven't heard anyone say it in years. Not since I left."

Aoba's heart is about to burst and he feels so _stupid_. How could he have not noticed with those freckles and that soft blonde hair and that German accent and just everything about Noiz?

"You knew all along?!" is what Aoba says instead of a happy, tearful response. "You knew and you didn't say anything you little shit--!"

"I wanted to know if I could still win you over from those other guys without the weight of the past. And I guess I did."

Oh. Well, that made sense, Aoba thinks, and he blushes again, huffs, and kind of spins the flower around in his hands. "You thought of me, huh?" he whispers, the stirrings of a smile taking shape on his face. His heart beats insanely and he regrets having yelled at Noiz earlier, having told Noiz to go home . Noiz has never done anything wrong, he realizes. He's always been here when he could. When he was able to.

"All the time."

The words make his heart warm, his heart melt, and Aoba finally looks up to meet the familiar pair of green that would always seem to haunt his dreams. "I guess I can date you still, yeah."

Noiz smiles. 

"Just…" Aoba clears his throat and takes a step forward, his haughtiness finally returning. Noiz had caught him so off guard, had threw him for a loop, had made him jerk off in his bedroom… payback was definitely on the list of things to do. So Aoba leans closer, up on his tip toes, and whispers into Noiz's ear, "What name do you want me to yell when I come from you fucking me into my mattress, huh?"

And Aoba doesn't even notice it's raining outside.

It's fitting, really.

It's a nice background noise, their noise, as Noiz drags him back to the room to show him _just_ how much he missed his hero.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave kudos and your thoughts...?!  
> Requests are still open over [here on tumblr](http://quietmylove.tumblr.com/)


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